


Why settle for one when two is much more fun

by an ouroboros of dicks (heradia)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crack, Double Penetration, Filth, M/M, Sex Toys, Smut, hardcore monogamy, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 22:59:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17252996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heradia/pseuds/an%20ouroboros%20of%20dicks
Summary: A month after a night of drinking that he doesn't remember, Katsuki Yuuri receives a surprise wedding gift in the mail.





	Why settle for one when two is much more fun

"Victor, I'm home," Yuuri calls out into the apartment. He's struggling to juggle both several bags of groceries along with the mail, while also toeing his shoes off without dropping everything. "Victor?"

The lights are on, warm and inviting, spilling around the corner from the living room. There's something that smells delicious coming from the kitchen but there's no answer from within the apartment. Next to the door, the hook where Makkachin's leash usually hangs is missing.

Yuuri sets the bags down on the counter in the kitchen and dumps the rest of mail- mostly packages- onto an already precarious mountain of yet unopened box next to the coffee table. The wedding isn't for another six months but they've already amassed an entire warehouse of gifts from well-wishers, not just from friends and family, but also fans from all over the world. They get sent to Victor's agent's address, the rink's address, and fill their PO box to such a degree that every time Yuuri drops in, the post office teller gently rib him about his constant back pain.

It's not that Yuuri isn't grateful. He knows it comes from a place of love, even when he and Victor insists on social media for fans to donate to a charity instead of sending them gifts. But looking at where the pile of boxes sit nearly blocking the tv, and then to the stack of thank you cards he and Victor had spent nearly every spare evening this week trying to fill out, RSI starts to become a grim reality. Yuuri's never had to sign his name so many times before. They sometimes joke about just calling off the marriage entirely, abandoning the apartments to the gifts and moving somewhere the long arm of the postal service can't find them.

With a groan, Yuuri slumps inelegantly on the couch, sending a landslide tumbling right onto his stomach- yesterday's haul, still unsorted. He pokes at one of them idly with a finger, perking up when he catches sight of Phichit's name on the return address.

He must have been tired from the long hours at the rink along with the conditioning regimen afterwards. That's the only reason he can think of to explain why there's not a suspicious thought in his head when he plucks the box off his stomach and starts opening it.

The cylindrical tube gets dropped from his nerveless fingers with a startled yelp, hitting the coffee table with a hollow sound before landing on the floor and rolling under the couch. He'd only caught a glimpse but the image of what it was firmly burned into his mind.

Three seconds later Yuuri's phone is in his hands, Line app open and video calling Phichit without even realizing he's even moved. It's two in the afternoon in Thailand right now, probably in the middle of Phichit's practice time but he still picks up within seconds.

"Yuuri! This is a surprise- it's been a while hasn't it?" Phichit says with a cheery wave at the camera. His brow scrunches as he squints at his screen with a frown. Yuuri doesn't know what sort of face he's making but it must be pretty bad because Phichit's expression turns worried. "What is it? What's wrong- is it Victor? Oh, no, not Makkachin-"

Yuuri, stewing in embarrassment, just holds up the plastic tube up to the camera, turning it so that the giant, neon pink dick with 'Clone-a-Willy' emblazoned on it's side in cartoonish English is visible.

Phichit, the asshole, just laughs. "Oh, that. Wow, I sent that over a month ago and it only just got there?"

"That's not the point, Phichit," Yuuri hisses. He shakes the tube at the camera, making the contents inside rattle. "Why would you even send this to me? What even made you think I'd even need this?"

"You don't remember?"

* * *

This is what Yuuri doesn't remember: Yutopia, several months ago. The wrap party to celebrate the successful last showing of "Victor & Friend's on Ice" is in full swing. Phichit had been reeled into a conversation with Yuuri and Chris that started out as a civil discussion before descending into a drunken shouting match about who was the biggest Victor fan (which, apparently, was a long standing point of contention since their Junior days?), Victor's best skating programs (Phichit thinks it's his exhibition skate of "Shall We Skate (Reprise) Broadway Edition" only to get drowned out by twin sounds of derision) and how good he looked skating them (very). There was a lot of alcohol involved.

Phichit bowed out early because, while he had always admired Victor- and who among their peers in their profession doesn't?- there's a noticeable difference between the basic, run of the mill fan Phichit is happy to subscribe to and whatever the hell it is that Yuuri and Chris are.

So far, the only thing they agree on is that all of Victor's programs are amazing; it's only when they get to the best one- or as Yuuri described it, starry eyed and slurring his words: "Super, super, suuuuper, amazing, life changing, most best in the world"- was when things start to get a little weird.

"You can't pick two best programs, that's not the way it works and you know it," Christ had pouted. Phichit can't tell if it's because Chris knew that, in Yuuri's current state, Yuuri is easy to rile up or if Chris is just as drunk. Phichit doesn't know him as well as Yuuri does outside of skating competitions, just that he always seemed cool and unflappable and that, whenever he watched skating on tv with his little sister, he would always have to cover her eyes during his program.

Chris is still going, petulantly tacking on, "And neither of those are as good as his 2006 Euros free skate, anyway." Which was about as effective as throwing water on a grease fire.

It's at this point in time, Victor, sensitive to Yuuri saying his name especially when being screamed across the room, discards any semblance of self preservation and stumbles over only to get a lap full of Yuuri for his troubles.

"Darling, darling, what's wrong?" Victor cooed, gathering Yuuri into his arms and letting Yuuri rub his drunk, sweaty self all over Victor's jinbei in distress.

"Victooor," Yuuri had said, settling onto Victor's lap as is his rightful place. "Chris and I are having a disagreement. We need a media- meda. Go between. Be our go between, Victor." He must have felt the tremors from Victor's laugh from where he's sitting because he tried to pinch him only for it to end up being more of a half-hearted grope than anything. "You know what I'm trying to say. And whatever you decide, just so you know, you're supposed to be on my side. The fiance rules said."

Victor blinked. "Sides?" and, quietly, even more confused, "Fiance rules?"

"They're fighting about which of your skating programs is the best out of all of them," Phichit explained. And, unable to resist throwing more fuel to what is clearly a burning tire fire of a conversation, adds: "It's clearly your 2008 exhibition skate, I especially liked where you tried to summon a portal in the middle of the rink with a pack of cards just like how Arthur did it in the movie." He's immediately drowned out by a chorus of "Wrong!" and "You're bias is clouding your judgment, Chulanont."

"Oh! I remember that," Victor said brightly, ignorant of the current mood in the room and the shitstorm he was walking into. "I liked that one, too. Yakov got so mad everytime I practiced that routine because it always took forever to clean up the cards afterward. I kept telling him it just didn't feel authentic if I didn't have props, right?" Phichit nodded along vehemently. He'd always known Victor was a good guy with excellent taste.

"Viiiictor," Yuuri grumbled, pawing at Victor's face. "Focus."

"Of course Victor can't be an impartial judge to his own programs. Especially when it comes to his best friend and his fiance," Chris says reasonably. "Because we all know that it would be Euros-"

"- You're wrong! You're opinions are wrong and your face is wrong!"

("And etcetera," Phichit says. "This could have gone on all night but then-")

At some point, Yuuri gets an idea. The idea is to strip out of his shirt. Going by the look on Victor's face this might as well have been the greatest idea in the history of the world. Chris seemed to disagree, though.

"Cheater!" Chris had bellowed indignantly, rising ungainly to his feet and stumbling his way over to Victor's other side and latching on tight. For the past half hour or so, Phichit had manfully held back on taking any pictures or video in deference to his and Yuuri's friendship. The moment Yuuri's shirt had come off, all bets were off. Whether this will be used for either blackmail purposes or video evidence for when Yuuri murdered Chris all Phichit knows is that his follower count will go through the roof.

"It's not cheating," Yuuri protested, trying to shove Chris away with his foot. He moved maybe half an inch on the tatami. "It's not. This is my future husband."

"Until you decide which program of Victor's programs you think is best, we can't fight like men."

"But I can't decide," Yuuri whined, wiggling back and forth in Victor's arms in frustration. "I like them both. I want both Victors."

"Don't be greedy, Yuuri, you already have one Victor. It's not fair if you hog them all."

Yuuri went still. He tilted his head up at look at Victor, eyes shining in wonderment. In a hushed whisper he said, "Two Victors?" It was like he's looking God himself in the face; like he'd discovered the meaning of life and everything else in between. Considering how much alcohol he's had, he probably _is_ seeing two Victors.

"No fair, Yuuri. If there's two Victors, I want at least one."

"No! Noooo! _Both_. I want both!" Yuuri shouted. "I want both at the same time!"

* * *

"It gets a little chaotic after that- you and Chris really didn't want to let the subject- or Victor- go. But that's the gist of it. I can send you the video later if you want," Phichit says. What Yuuri wants is to crawl into a hole and die. No wonder Yuri re-booked his ticket back to St Petersburg on a different flight or why Georgi couldn't even look at him without blushing. He was better off not knowing what happened. Drunk Yuuri is a menace. He's never going to drink again.

"So that's the story of why I sent you a dick cloning kit," Phichit continues when Yuuri doesn't reply. "So you can clone Victor's-"

"My parents where there," Yuuri moans in realization. "Mari. _Minako-sensei_. Please tell me they didn't hear me screaming about-"

Phichit gives him a sympathetic look.

Yuuri quietly puts his face in his hands.

"Why didn't Victor say anything to me about this?" Yuuri whimpers, ignoring the tinny, soothing noises Phichit is making over the phone. "He never mentioned anything about this to me afterwards and he knows how forgetful I am when I drink."

"I think he got distracted by Kiss Monster Seung-Gil tackling Michele into the shoji screen? Everything really ratcheted up after that. I've never heard another human being make the sort of noise Michele was making."

Which explained why Seung-Gil had come up to Yuuri the next morning looking hungover and repentant, offering an apology and saying to an equally hungover Yuuri something about paying for damages.

"Everything you've told me about your sexual relationship with Victor-"

"When?! When did I tell you anything about that?!"

"- everything you've insinuated about your sexual relationship with Victor while you were drunk says that he's a pretty open minded guy. I'm sure if you ask him nicely, he'd be all for scratching that freaky itch you've got going there."

"I'm hanging up."

" _Yuuri_ , I'm not judging you. Sometimes couples like to try new things to keep the magic alive. Like threesomes or rope play. What do you call it? Shiba- shiba...something? Anyway, it's technically not cheating because it'd still be Victor's dick-"

Yuuri hangs up.

The most aggravating thing is this: Phichit has a point. Victor would absolutely, enthusiastically, be onboard for anything Yuuri suggested... But this? This dragged up the uncomfortable memory of the darkest of Yuuri's fanboy years, his burgeoning adolescence, and the many hours whiled away in his bedroom in Hasetsu, in his shitty boarding house at university, in his apartment in Detroit, pretending that the dildo he'd bought at a boutique all the way in Tokyo, the one he used to ride until his legs would shake, was Victor Nikiforov's cock.

He was a teenager. It just was something teenagers did if his classmates unending chatter about the subject during lunch break was any indication. Yuuri was a healthy young man with urges like any other healthy young men. He also had, at sixteen, an already sizable collection of posters of Victor who looked as if he was a fantasy made flesh. One day Yuuri had looked up at the picture and thought, ‘what if-' as his hand had crept into his underwear and then it had snowballed from there on after and now he has a secret from Victor that he will take to his grave.

To his last dying breath, he'll blame Yuuko for lighting this fire that still burned brightly to this day. All those hours spent in their local bookstore, trying to decide which magazine with Victor in it to buy with their meager allowance. The best day of Yuuri's life, second to getting Vicchan and landing the 3A for the first time in competition successfully had been the day the onsen had finally gotten internet service and he could order as many international publications his poor little heart and wallet could handle.

He was member no.2 of the Hasetsu charter of the Victor Nikiforov Japanese fanclub, he'd watched all of Victor's programs enough times that he could probably skate them in his sleep. He learned cyrillic just so he could muddle his way through Russian articles about him. He had screamed his name out the first time he achieved a prostate orgams.

And he was scared shitless that Victor would find out.

Those first few days after Victor had barged into his life had Yuuri vacillating between feelings of immense happiness that Victor had- for whatever reason- decided to come to Japan to coach him and the pure, simple feelings of white hot terror that he would discover 12 years worth of Yuuri's fan memorabilia of him. Even after taking all his posters down, Yuuri had worried for days that Victor would find out that he a super fan of his. And not just any regular super fan, either. He was a Victor- _otaku_.

If Yuuri was in Victor's shoes, he'd be weirded out. Yuuri's love was an intense love. Is still an intense love. Enough to endure the harsh training, the long, lonely years away from his family, the disappointment, and the pain and the tears. All of it worth it, if only to someday skate on the same ice.

The idea that Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri's childhood idol and teenage crush had taken one look at the man who failed his way to a crushing sixth place finish at the Sochi GPF; who seduced him into chasing him all the way to another country. Who took the sum of Yuuri's parts and thought: ‘Yes, I want to spend my life together with this man' is both humbling and absolutely mind boggling.

It is at this time that Victor arrives home.

"Getting an early start without me, darling?" Victor says in greeting. Yuuri, momentarily frozen in panic, doesn't answer. As Victor starts taking off his coat and shoes, Yuuri leaps into action, grabbing Phichit's gift and shoving it under a mass of couch cushions and hurriedly rearranging some boxes on top for good measure.

"Welcome back," Yuuri replies, trying to sound casual. He makes an attempt at lounging before catching the awkward looking reflection of himself on the TV and rearranging himself back into a normal sitting position.

Makkachin beelines towards his food while Victor beelines towards Yuuri, who tilts his head up automatically to accept the kiss that Victor drops on his mouth, sweet and lingering before he settles down next to Yuuri, scooting close and slinging an arm around his shoulder. Yuuri feels a tell-tale nudge at his hip, hard and accusing.

"Have a good walk?" Yuuri asks, snuggling in close and breathing in the crisp smell of late autumn still clinging to Victor's clothes along with with the deeper, more heady scent of Victor's cologne, warm and comforting.

"I saw a cute dog I've never seen before today at the park," Victor sighs, a happy man with simple needs. Dogs, fashionable clothes, a Yuuri who slings his legs onto Victor's lap and allows Victor to rest his hands underneath the bend of his knee. "Not as cute as our Makka, of course but a solid contender."

Yuuri hums and let's himself forget about the wedding gifts for now. "Tell me more about this dog."

* * *

Over the next few days, Yuuri does his best to ignore the very existence of Phichit's gift. He packs it back into its original shipping box and shoves it into the back of the cupboard on the highest shelf in the kitchen and pretends that his drunken tirade never happened.

But it doesn't stop Yuuri from thinking about it constantly.

When he's in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to finish making, his eyes will gradually be drawn up and up until he's staring holes into the shiny gloss door of their thermofoil cabinets. When he's at the rink skating compulsory figures around the section of ice he's claimed for himself, his mind invariably starts to wander to what-if scenarios that has him stumbling out of a loop, face red, Yuri's naïve ridicule ringing in his ears. The number of times he catches himself staring at Victor- and let's be honest, at Victor's dick- has firmly added Yakov to the list of people who will no longer look Yuuri in the eye.

He thinks about how it would feel like. The burn, the tight press, the feeling of his rim clenching hard around another cock. Yuuri presses a hand against his abdomen, thinks circles around the image of two cocks inside of him, the way his guts would have to shift to accommodate the additional girth.

Once the idea sets down roots in his brain he finds himself on the bed one late afternoon, Victor still at practice, hand roughly pulling at his cock while simultaneously fucking himself on the two of the slimmest dildos they own.

It's easy to summon up the image of the current Victor, twenty-nine, looking up at Yuuri in worship as he bounces on top of Victor's dick. It's the second Victor he can't decide on. Eighteen year old Victor, long haired and slender and inexperienced, who made up his lack of knowledge with youthful exuberance. Or Victor at twenty-one, hair the shortest it's ever been and his shoulders filled out, with the confidence of an Olympic medalist. He'd be more sure of himself, know what to do, how to make Yuuri feel good. He runs a gamut of fantasy Victors in his mind, a rapidly shuffling slide show of Victors from sweet and tender to ones that are a little more demanding, a little meaner. Ones that pull his hair and makes him take it; make Yuuri work for it.

Two sets of hands, two sets of voices whispering praise into his ear, the feel of another cock fitting in along side the other one already clutched tight inside of Yuuri's body, the shape of it familiar and dear. In Yuuri's most shameful of fantasy to date, they work him over, moving in tandem, in asynchronization, stuffing him full until he's coming so hard he sees stars, his entire body shuddering at the force of his orgasm.

Phichit had said that Chris had called him greedy for wanting all of Victor.

'Chris was right,' Yuuri thinks morosely, turning his head and burying his face into the bedspread. 'I really am greedy.'

* * *

The thing is, now that Yuuri's curiousity is piqued, he can't think of a way of bringing the topic up without embarrassment making him tongue tied. Where would he even start? 'Hello, Victor. How was your day? If you wouldn't mind, would you kindly make a replica of your dick so that I could live out my fantasies of being fucked by two of you?'

He'll call off the wedding and then Yuuri will have to go back to Japan in shame. It will be a life of solitude living in the woods, hidden from the world and it's judging eyes. He won't even have Victor's real dick to comfort him nor his fake dick. It's a lose-lose situation.

It's irrational, he knows this, even as he spirals down the rabbit hole of worst case scenarios. He knows Victor would never belittle him or think poorly of him for wanting to try something like this. In all actuality, he would probably be incredibly flattered. But it's almost comforting, in a way, imagining all the things that could happen. The likelihood of Victor saying yes is always tempered by the Victor that says no. And then he calls Yuuri a pervert and leaves him.

In the end, it takes Yuuri another week of working himself up over this before he finally gets tired of his indecision. It takes another week of thinking up an opening statement to ease Victor into the idea of it before he just goes with the simplest approach and just asks him directly.

Victor's reaction is something that Yuuri wasn't expecting.

"Oh, thank god. I thought you were having second thoughts about marrying me," Victor says, reaching over and pulling Yuuri in to a bone crushing hug.

"Why would I ever have second thoughts about marrying you," Yuuri replies, bewildered with his face mashed up against Victor's shoulders. And furthermore. "That's impossible."

"What do you think I would think when you come up to me out of the blue after two weeks of avoiding me, and then asking if we could talk," Victor says. Yuuri thinks he might be crying a little but Victor won't let him pull back enough to see. "I thought maybe- I thought you might have gotten tired of me," Victor admits reluctantly, curling into Yuuri tighter, as though if he were to just hold on tight enough he could keep him. Yuuri's breath hitches. He hadn't considered that Victor might take his embarrassed avoidance as a sign of Yuuri having second thoughts. "That I might have done something, or you might have gotten sick of all the attention from the media and the fans and you had changed your mind."

"It wasn't because of that," Yuuri says, shaking his head vehemently as much as he is able to. "Victor, please believe me when I say that it has nothing to with that. I could never be tired of you. I will never not want you. How could you even think that." He clutches tight to the back of Victor's shirt and burying his burning face into his Victor's shoulder, glasses askew and digging into his forehead.

"So then why-"

"I was ashamed," Yuuri says, the words sticking to his throat like glue. "I thought it was weird how much I thought about it; how much I wanted it that I was worried that you might end up thinking it was weird, too. I didn't know how to handle it and I ended up I pulling away from you. I'm sorry."

Victor shifts away, far enough so that he can look Yuuri properly. His eyes are rimmed a telling pink.

"You know, you can always talk to me about anything, right, Yuuri? Even if it's embarrassing. I don't think there's anything in the world you can tell me that will make me think poorly of you."

"I know that." And Yuuri does. He knows that out of everyone in his life Victor would always be one of the precious few people he could be open with but admitting his faults and his wants and his weaknesses is still hard. It will never not be like pulling teeth for him, even if it's to Victor. Especially if it's to Victor. "This- this was just too much. Phichit sent it as a joke for something I said while drunk which was a whole other level of mortifying on top of everything else. I thought if I could just hide it away until I forget about it it would be fine but..."

"But you didn't."

"But I didn't," Yuuri says with a nod. It's hard to maintain eye contact for very long and his entire face feels like it's on fire with embarrassment but he manages, somehow. "Even when I had hidden it away, I couldn't stop thinking about it, and the more I thought about it, the more I worried what you might think. That it was weird or obsessive or something."

"Is- Do you-" Something openly vulnerable passes over Victor's face before his expression shutters into something more neutral. He seems to struggle with himself for a moment. "Was this something you thought about often, having two partners at once? Is that- would that be something that you want? Because if this is something you wanted I- we could always..." The way he says it makes it seem like he's forcing himself to speak through glass.

The thought of having to share Victor, any part of Victor at all, with anyone else- a friend, a stranger-, makes something in Yuuri recoil in horror. This is the opposite of what his greedy heart and his greedy body wants.

"No," he chokes out. And then, practically yelling, " _No_. It was only you that I thought about. Two of you. A million of you. But only ever you." He wants to shake Victor, wants this to be clear to Victor, he wants Victor to understand how much he wants this. How much he wants him.

Victor blinks at him in shock at his outburst before something like relief settles over his face. Like the idea of having to share Yuuri, too, was something he was worried about. "Okay."

They both fall silent, the only sound in the room is the tick of the clock in the kitchen and the hum of the refrigerator condenser kicking on.

"For the record," Victor says slowly, reaching over to hold Yuuri's hand and carefully entwine their fingers together. The corner of his lip quirks up into a weak smile. "I'm happy that you like me so much that you'd want two of me. It really is sort of flattering in a way."

Yuuri closes his eyes and sighs in relief as the heavy weight in his chest dissipates. "To be fair, one of the worst case scenarios I thought of was you getting a big head from this."

"Think of it as punishment for the emotional rollercoaster you just put me through," Victor says, petty. The smile that grows on his face is genuine, though, soft and sweet and full of love. It's partially why Yuuri leans up and presses a kiss to Victor's lips, closed mouth and chaste. Also to try and distract Victor and the incoming ego trip.

It doesn't work.

Victor pulls away all too soon to pick up the discarded Clone kit, twisting it this way and that as if by doing so, he can accurately discern just what exactly about this gets Yuuri's motor going. He shoots Yuuri a sidelong glance, one perfect eyebrow raised. Yuuri swallows nervously. "So, you were thinking of two of me when you touched yourself these past few weeks? Two versions of me pleasuring you at the same time? Don't try to hide it, either. I saw how low the bottle of lube in the bedroom got."

The noise Yuuri makes is inhuman but it's the confirmation that Victor needs and the grin that spreads across his face is infuriatingly smug. Nothing good can come from a man who smiles like a cat who'd gotten away with eating an entire aviary.

"Um."

"This is all the name of discretion of course. I don't want anymore misunderstandings about your needs, Yuuri," Victor says declares with a wink. His eyes go heavy lidded as he leans into Yuuri's space, his voice pitched low and hypnotic and it takes all of Yuuri's willpower not to shiver. "Is this what had you so distracted during practice these past few weeks? Describe everything about what you want, Yuuri. In detail. Leave _nothing_ out."

"I think it might be time to start making dinner," Yuuri says, shooting up from the couch. "Are you hungry? I'm hungry. I think I might make stir fry but I'm not sure we have enough chicken. I should go to the grocery store to buy some before it closes-"

Victor reaches over and lightly caresses his arm from elbow to wrist, catching Yuuri's hand in his and bringing it up to his lips in a kiss.

"Yuuri." The look Victor gives him is devastation incarnate, encouraging and kind and filled with _intent_ , and just like that, his knees give way and he drops back onto the couch without a fight.

Three weeks of pent up frustration fit to bursting and it all comes out- all of it- in a rush. It spills out of his mouth, one dirty fantasy after another that leaves even Victor, normally so shameless and unflappable, red in the face. Just like how Victor wanted him to, he leaves no detail unsaid. No embarrassing tidbit is spared. Not even the one 

By the time he's done and there's nothing left inside of him to confess he's slumped against the arm of the couch, arm slung over his eyes, exhausted and wrung out. They had started this conversation in the late afternoon, the sun low in the sky but by now, the apartment is dark and hushed.

Victor takes a breath and let's it out in one amazed, "Wow."

Yuuri says nothing. He has no more secrets left- it's all been scraped out of him. He feels lighter than he has in weeks.

"Wow," Victor says again. Yuuri wonders if he's broken him and chances a peek from underneath his arm. There's a high flush on Victor's cheeks and a glazed look in his eyes. A dazed grin stretches across his face from ear to ear. "Maybe we should start with two and work from there."

* * *

It's a multi-step process that involves multiple days which makes the anticipation that much more unbearable, not helped in the least by Victor's childlike joy at sticking his erect penis into a tube of white goo to make a negative mould of his dick.

Victor smirks, and asks, with an exaggerated wink, thrusting his hip out and nearly upsetting the grip he has on the cylinder pressed to his groin. "Like what you see?" He's naked except for the open green jinbei, lovingly stolen from Onsen Yuutopia.

"I have never been more sexually attracted to you," Yuuri says flatly. His job of mixing the powder done, along with acquiring the dubious honour of briefly being Victor's fluffer (a startling fantasy that the will have to revisit someday- but one thing at a time), there's not much more he can do but sit on his hands and wait.

In the meantime, he burns off the nervous energy by taking runs with Makkachin, and then, when she's exhausted and refusing to move from her doggy bed, he goes to Lilia's studio to go through the choreography for his new programs until she kicks him out.

It's like that summer in Hasetsu all over again; lingering touches in the hallway, Victor's fingers catching against Yuuri's wrist in a brief touch, secretive side long glances when they thought no one else was looking. The anticipation is just as bad now as it was during those frustrating few days before they had sex for the first time except for the fact that they're actually having sex now, constantly and vigorously ("We've got to get you ready," Victor groans into Yuuri's neck as he thrusts desperately into Yuuri's body. "Gotta make sure you're open and ready for me- for us." While Yuuri is arching his back and chanting, most agreeably, "Yesyesyes.") Despite this, the tension still isn't abating.

Yakov looks at him weird. Georgi looks at him weird. Yuri always use to look at him weird but now he tries not to look at him at all. During a water break, Mila sidles up to him to ask if he's alright although the look in her eyes says what she really wants to ask is if Yuuri would like some sort of intervention. Turns out, obvious to everyone one but himself, he had been looking close to throwing Victor down on to the center of the ice and impugning the sanctity of the rink right then and there. Yuuri runs laps across the bridge over the Neva several times in screaming mortification until Victor finally drags him home.

The only consolation is that Victor, now that he knows what's up, seems just as impatient as he is. Yuuri had been correct in assuming that Victor would be flattered by all of this; obnoxiously smug to the point of conceit. There's a noticeable bounce to his step now, too, and when he smiles, it's almost manic. There's a secret they share now between the two of them, slotting neatly into their life like a puzzle piece. Victor always watches Yuuri closely when he practices but there's an added intensity to it now, an undercurrent of expectation underneath Victor's usual professionalism. It makes Yuuri feel flustered; it makes him feel like the sexiest person in the world.

In the end, it takes them a few more days before the their schedule clears enough that they're not exhausted from training or busy with other obligations. Both Yuuri and Victor need to go to a fundraising dinner to raise money for new equipment at a local hospital. It's a promise to attend made long ago that neatly transitions into a weekend free from any training or work whatsoever.

 _Two more hours_ , Yuuri thinks. Victor has to place his hand on Yuuri's leg to stop it from it's constant jiggling, kneading hard circles into the muscles of his thigh under the table cloth. It does nothing to sooth his restlessness. He'll be put out of his misery in two hours or die of sexual anticipation.

It doesn't help that a lot of the speeches are in Russian and Yuuri's fluency isn't quite there yet. He tries to pay attention- he really, really does- or, at least, maintain the appearance of if it weren't for the fact that he can't stop thinking of Victor, sitting beside him, and his fat cock underneath his slacks or the fat cock, ready and waiting for him sitting in the center of their bedspread.

He refuses Victor's offer to help 'take care of it' in one of the bathrooms and stubbornly insists on staying for most of the function until, finally, it grows late enough that they can leave without being seen as rude. They both donate an obscene amount of money to the hospital and then Victor hustles Yuuri into his coat and into a cab.

The door to their apartment barely has time to close before Yuuri shoves Victor hard up against it, Yuuri's mouth seeking Victor's in a desperate kiss. Victor's hands scrabble against the coat he had insisted Yuuri wear that evening, saying how cold it was going to be tonight and tenderly making sure each button and fastener was in its proper place. He had pressed a laughing kiss to the pout on Yuuri's mouth when Yuuri's made an annoyed comment about how Victor just wanted an excuse to feel him up.

 _Well, who's laughing now_ , Yuuri thinks, petty, as Victor fumbles with another button. He's already naked from the waist down, shoes, socks, slacks and boxer briefs flung off to locations unknown, but his coat has turned into an impregnable fortress of cashmere.

"Yuuri, just how much do you like this coat?" Victor doesn't even wait for an answer before he's pulling up the hem of Yuuri's charcoal designer coat up and off like a sweater, seams groaning in protest. It's not the most elegant solution to a problem that could probably be solved by patience, seven more seconds and another foot of space but it's effective in peeling his coat and dress jacket off which is all Yuuri's cotton stuffed brain can handle right now.

From then on it's a mad scramble to get rid of the rest of their clothes while also trying to reach the bedroom, Yuuri's necktie goes flying underneath the couch where he won't find it again for six months and Victor's shirt goes flinging wildly into the master bathroom with a loud clatter. Yuuri scrambles up onto the bed, pulling Victor by the loops on his open slacks, chanting, "Hurry, hurry-" because he's so close to getting what's his and Yuuri is done with waiting.

"We need to get supplies, first," Victor says. "Lube, towels-"

In reply Yuuri just rolls over onto his side and reached down beside the bed. Victor eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he takes in the monstrous gift basket stuffed to the gills with everything any discerning soon-to-be newlyweds would ever want for their sex life. To Yuuri's displeasure, he stops undressing to gawk.

"It came in this afternoon by courier," Yuuri says, a little put out at why Victor isn't naked already. "I'll give you one guess who sent it and it's definitely not who you think. Take your pants off."

Victor, easily distracted, reaches over to twist the name card around to reveal the sender. "... Lee Seung-Gil? Really? ‘Sorry again about the door'."

"He was very apologetic about destroying one of the screens at Yutopia," Yuuri says in explanation, mentally willing Victor to focus on the task at hand but knowing it's already too late; he's lost him.

Victor's already untying the bow and tearing through the cellophane with the bright eyed wonder of a boy on Christmas morning. He unearths a giant pump bottle of lube that he sets aside on the bedspread for later and a string of multi-coloured condoms that gets flicked off to the side of the bed by Yuuri. Victor is too busy cooing over how cute this black and red prostate massager was to notice his fit of pique.

"If this is what Seung-Gil's idea of an apology gift basket is for a broken door, I'm extra curious to see what he got Michele Crispino." Victor whistles as he pulls out a pair of purple leather handcuffs ringed with studded spikes and a matching ball gag.

Yuuri isn't having any of this.

He takes a steadying breath, pitching his voice low and sultry, says, " _Viten'ka._."

Leaning back until he's supported by his elbows, he slowly spreads his legs, letting Victor get a full view of the plug he had secretly tucked up inside him before they'd left for the charity dinner. Yuuri lets his eyes flutter to half-mast as he reaches down and trails his fingers down the seam of his balls and then further until he reaches the base of the plug. He give it a little tug, pulling it until the thickest part of it stretches the rim before thrusting it back in. The prostate massager drops to the floor as Victor's whines, high and desperate.

"Should you really be saying another man's name when you have me here, willing and ready for you?" Yuuri asks, mouth curving in a displeased moue.

"When- How long have you had that inside you?" Victor asks, attention right back where Yuuri wants it: on him and only him.

Yuuri hums in consideration, letting his legs fall shut and smiling a little at Victor's mournful little gasp. "Earlier. After you finished inside me, before we started getting ready for the dinner." Victor had tried to pull out and finish on Yuuri's back like a gentleman. Considering Yuuri had kept Victor's come tucked up inside of him for most of the evening, it was obvious who had won out in the end.

"So all through the taxi ride and-"

"Yes."

"-and the speeches and the mingling-"

"Mmm-hmm."

Victor's eyes goes wide in realization. "You danced with the director of the board. You danced with Yurio. You danced with me. And all this time you-"

Yuuri's short program, On Love: Eros, might have been retired a season earlier, but let it not be said that he'd let that learning experience go to waste. He makes his way to the edge of the bed, sliding off until he's kneeling on the ground in front of Victor; looks up at him from below, wide eyed and guileless.

"Victor?" The questioning noise Victor makes in reply- lost and uncomfortably turned on- makes something hot flutter frantically in Yuuri's stomach.

Yuuri let's his eyes flutter shut. Opens his mouth.

There's a bitten off curse, a rush of displaced air, and the sound of Victor's pants- finally, _finally_ \- hitting the ground before a hand cards through his hair, gripping the back of his neck and holding him steady as Victor feeds his dick slowly into Yuuri's waiting mouth.

To think, there had been a point of time in Yuuri's life where he'd been bad at this; too ambitious at taking in too much at one time and triggering his gag reflex, not knowing how to breathe properly through his nose and sending himself into a coughing fit. Now he takes it like he'd been born for it, relaxing his throat and letting Victor's cock slide in and in until Yuuri's nose touches the short, dark grey hairs at the base. He lets saliva pool in his mouth; bobs his head to get it nice and wet. He works Victor's cock over languidly, moaning as he feels it go from semi-hard to fully hard in his mouth and getting an answering groan in return.

Had there not been other activities that night waiting for them, Yuuri would have been content to just stay there on his knees, sucking Victor off. All too soon, however, Victor is reluctantly pulling him off with a gasp. "If you continue that, love, I'm not going to last." He leans down to press a kiss to Yuuri's wet, smirking mouth with a sigh, telling him to get on the bed; that he just needs to get some stuff ready and then he'll be back and then they can start.

Yuuri pulls himself up and onto the bed proper, deviating only slightly to shove their duvet over to the side before settling onto his back, wiggling a bit to get comfortable as he waits for Victor to return. The motion sends the dildo on the bed- temporarily forgotten during the impromptu blow job session- rolling into Yuuri's leg.

Yuuri hadn't known what to expect when they had extracted the finished product from the mould but he hadn't expected to it to turn out this well. It's startling true to life from the wide, flared head right down to each and every prominent vein. The weight and heft of it familiar even if there was a bit more give to it than real flesh. He knows it won't taste the same, being silicon and all, but he can't help but wonder if it would feel the same way Victor's real dick felt earlier, if it will have the same mouthfeel despite the synthetic texture.

 _Well_ , Yuuri thinks as he drops a kiss onto the head of the dildo. _There's really only one way to find out._

Yuuri closes his eyes and let's his mouth rub against the phallus, feeling every bump and ridge with his lips alone. It's cold, not the scorching temperature of what a real human body is like so he blows hotly against it, cupping his hands around it to warm it up. He showers attention on the frenulum, flattening his tongue and rubbing, knowing how it drives Victor wild when he does that before fitting his mouth around the head properly and tonguing at the slit with tiny kitten licks.

He's still salivating from the blow job from earlier, throat still relaxed and ready, so it takes barely any effort to go down on it. Yuuri works his throat around the dildo, swallowing lightly, his brows furrowed in thought as he tries to do a mental comparison.

"I think I'm jealous," Victor says, sounding unsure. "But I'm also very happy?"

Yuuri opens his eyes to see Victor standing in the doorway, towels slung over one arm while the other is cradling a metal bowl filled with heat packs, one of the larger bottles of lubes nestled in the centre. He watches Victor watch him as he rubs the head of the dildo against the inside of his cheek, making it bulge. Smiles ever so slightly when Victor's dick twitches.

There's an audible pop sound when Yuuri finally releases the dildo. "You had your chance," he says with a haughty sniff and shuffles on his knees a quarter turn away so he's no longer facing Victor.

It's a petty victory shortly lived. The bed dips as Victor joins him on the bed, the supplies set aside for now. Yuuri chances a peek at him out of the corner of his eye and nearly chokes when he finds Victor staring intently at him from only a foot away.

"Vi-Victor? What are-"

"Oh, don't let me stop you," Victor murmurs, reaching over and gently tipping the phallus back into Yuuri's slack mouth. "As much as I wish it were me right now, I can't think of another chance to see you do this from this close. Please, darling, keep going."

And who is Yuuri to deny such a request?

Even if the dildo in his mouth isn't real, Yuuri isn't going to half-ass it. Victor is watching his performance after all and it's almost pavlovian how he ends up showing off a little when his eyes are on him. He takes it all the way to where his fingers form a tight ring at the base, hollowing his cheeks and sucking as if it were a real cock. He pulls it out with a wet gasp for breath and rubs the seam of his mouth up and down the sides until his lips a numb and shiny with spit. He pays close attention to way Victor's breathing picks up beside him as he swallows it down with a rough thrust that has his throat bulging.

He chances a peek at Victor from underneath the fall of his lashes, curious to see what his reaction; a bright curl of delight tickling Yuuri's belly when Yuuri sees the enraptured expression on Victor's face. His cheeks are flushed pink and his eyes are wide and dark with desire. His mouth hangs slightly open as he watches Yuuri, spellbound. An idea, hot and wicked, forms in his mind.

"Did you want a turn?" Yuuri asks, pulling off the dildo with a loud pop. He holds it out to Victor, looks at him wide and guileless.

It takes a full three seconds for Victor to come to his senses enough to respond. He blinks at Yuuri slowly, as if coming out of a dream. "What?"

Instead of repeating himself, Yuuri just waggles it in front of Victor's mouth until he gets a clue and let's it in, sucking on the head cautiously.

Because Yuuri can't help being a little mean sometimes, he smirks and tsks, "I know you can do better than that, Victor."

Clarity comes back to Victor like a bucket of cold water dumped on his head. He gives him a narrow eyed look that makes Yuuri shiver with anticipation at the retribution it promises. Victor reaches out and takes Yuuri's wrist in hand, holding it steady as he licks a broad swipe from top to bottom, a look of challenge in his eyes. He feathers kisses against the side, brushes a lingering kiss against the side of Yuuri's thumb, trailing kisses up his arm in increasingly exaggerated _smooch_ noises and making Yuuri laugh. In a swift move, he goes down on it, his lips touching Yuuri's hand in a brief kiss each time he bobs his head.

He pops off with a soft gasp, eyes never leaving Yuuri's, glinting with a hint of challenge.

Well, if he was going to be like _that_.

Victor's eyes are shining with barely suppressed laughter on the other side of the dildo as Yuuri joins him, kissing his way up to the tip on his own side. Together, they kiss and lick at the dildo between them, trying to outdo the other in terms of technique. They're so close that Victor almost goes cross-eyed trying to give Yuuri what he thinks is suppose to be a sultry look but only succeeds in making Yuuri jerk away with a snort. Yuuri can't stop giggling, echoed on the other side by Victor. Every so often, they'd bump into each other, an unexpected kiss that sends makes them laugh even harder. This is absurd. This is officially the weirdest, silliest thing in their sex lives they've ever done by far.

"I don't think it's possibly to win like this," Yuuri says with a laugh, wiping at his mouth with the back of his wrist.

Victor sighs in mock disappointment. "I suppose I'll have to concede to a tie," he says magnanimously.

Yuuri's eyelashes flutter when he feels Victor thumb at the corner of Yuuri's mouth, rubbing at the saliva that's trickling down his chin before his hand moves to gently cup his jaw. The kiss that Victor presses to his mouth is gentle and chaste, an unhurried slide of lips that leaves Yuuri heart squeezing at how sweet it is.

Victor gives Yuuri one more kiss on the lips and then drops a wet smooch on the peak of his shoulder before holding up the dildo back up again in front of Yuuri in invitation. Yuuri opens his mouth to accept it automatically letting Victor set the pace this time. Now that he's not controlling it, each thrust is a little unpredictable; short, quick strokes where the head barely hits his tongue followed by a slow deep one that he can feel in the back of his throat. He feels Victor guiding his hand into Victor's lap and onto his cock. When Yuuri starts to move his hand up and down, they both shudder.

"That's it, you're doing so good, Yuuri," Victor murmurs, pressing soft kisses at the skin of Yuuri's neck, behind the shell of his ear. "I wish there was some way you could see yourself just now. You're so amazing. You look so good."

All Yuuri can do is moan helplessly, try to take it in even deeper though it should be impossible by now. He's so turned on it's almost painful; his dick is hard and dribbling pre-cum, tapping against his stomach everytime he shifts his hips. His body feels so hot right now that it seems any small spark would be enough for him to catch on fire.

Because Victor is a jerk, he ignores Yuuri's obvious arousal in favour of walking the fingers of his free hand down Yuuri's lower back until he reaches the sensitive dimpled V that points the way to wear the plug rests inside of Yuuri. He slips his fingers between the swell of Yuuri's cheeks and rubs gently at the flat base for a moment before giving it a light tap.

Even if Yuuri's was expecting it, he's still unprepared for the frisson of pleasure that zips through his body as the plug shifts inside him. He has to pull off to keep from choking, biting off a low groan as Victor starts to play with it, working his fingers between the base and his hole and rubbing teasingly at his rim.

Yuuri doesn't know how the hell Victor has any semblance of coordination left. It feels like all of Yuuri's brain cells have fried and even having the coordination to keep moving his hand up and down Victor's cock is taking up all his concentration.

"Take it out, Victor," Yuuri gasps, arching backwards into the fingers playing with his hole. 

"Yuuri, so impatient," Victor teases but finally does what Yuuri asks for once. Yuuri feels his flesh give way when the plug finally pulls free, leaving him empty and open. He shudders at the sensation, biting off a startled moan, his head dipping down briefly to touch the wrinkled sheets of their bed as he tries to compose himself.

"Who would you like to have you first? Me or... Vitya?"

They've had toy play before but not in a roleplaying capacity so this was a brave new world for them both. Because a lot of Yuuri's internal angsts and marathon wank sessions these past few weeks had revolved around being done by two of Victor, it was understood that there'd be a little bit of make believe involved when they do the do.

Yuuri is still shocked at how powerful the lightning bolt of pleasure that zips up his spine really is at Victor's question. He looks up at Victor through his eyelashes, feeling oddly shy and says quietly, "Vitya first, please."

There's a bit of a shuffle as they rearrange themselves on the bed; Yuuri on his hands and knees facing away from the headboard of the bed, prostrate in front of Victor and mouthing at his dick again as Victor leans over him. Victor is rubbing the dildo- _Vitya_ they had decided to call it during a heated discussion at the dinner table a few days ago ("Why does _he_ get to be called so intimately when you won't call even call me ‘ _Viten'ka_ ' regularly," Victor had asked in a puerile fit of jealousy. "Because it's embarrassing!" Yuuri had squeaked.)- against the small of Yuuri's back. Vitya slips in, easy as you like, right to the base where Victor has it in a tightly fisted grip. There's no foreplay involved; Vitya sets a punishing pace almost immediately, driving so deep inside of Yuuri that nearly has him squealing around the cock in his mouth.

This is the closest Yuuri's ever been to his fantasies. When Yuuri close his eyes, he can just imagine it. Victor, his Victor, taking his mouth, while another Victor, Vitya, fucks him from behind. There's a hand gripping one of his cheeks open, hard enough that he'll leave bruises on Yuuri's skin for days, his cock carving inside of him with a single minded determination.

They fall into a rhythm, Yuuri rocking back and forth between the cock in his ass and the cock in his throat like a well oiled machine. It feels so good. It feels incredible. Yuuri could cry at how good he feels.

It's only when Yuuri has to reach down and hold the base of his dick to stave off the on coming orgasm that Victor stops and pulls away. The sense of loss from both ends leaves Yuuri disoriented, mindlessly pawing at Victor's thigh to come back with a wordless, plaintive sound that, had he'd been more cognitive of what he was doing, he'd have been mortified.

"Shh, shh," Victor murmurs, gently carding sweaty Yuuri's bangs away from his face.

" _Victoru_ -" Ah, Yuuri must be out of it if his accent is slipping. "Why'd you stop?"

The smile he gets is a little rueful. "Maybe I just felt jealous that you were enjoying _Vitya_ so much. Maybe I felt like I wanted a turn..." His eyelashes dip low with a suggestion of demureness that's an absolutely, one-hundred-fucking-percent, brazen lie. "Maybe it's my cock I want you to come on."

 _... That should not sound as hot as it does._ Yuuri thinks, a little hysterically.

Yuuri's still trying to get his brain working again that he barely even notices as Victor maneuvers him onto his back onto one of their old towels they use to keep messes contained when they get especially frisky in bed. Victor slots himself neatly between Yuuri's open legs, one hand gripping Yuuri's knee and holding it high aloft, the other hand guiding his cock into Yuuri's already used hole.

"Yuuri," he sighs, hips beginning to move in slow, deep rolls. "You're already so open for me."

Unlike Vitya, Victor takes his time, thrusting languidly with a pace that could almost be described as syrupy at how slow it was. It keeps the simmering desperation that had nearly overtaken Yuuri earlier at bay. Like this, face to face, Yuuri can sling his arms over Victor's shoulders and tug him down for, kiss him open mouth and dirty; bite and put sucking kisses against the side of Victor's neck as he labors above him. For a moment, Yuuri wonders if Victor really means to have him do as he wanted and have Yuuri come like this.

Another dick pokes at his entrance.

Victor pulls all the way out, smoothly replacing his dick with Vitya's to Yuuri's surprised, "Oh!" The corners of his mouth tick up in a smirk, as if he'd just pulled off the most amazing magic trick in the world while Yuuri stares blankly between him and Vitya who he'd just switched places with.

They switch off now, trading places every few thrusts while all Yuuri can do is sling his arm over his eyes and moan helplessly and try not to come. His orgasm has been steadily building, a slowly mounting beast inside of him that's winding closer and closer to release.

" _V- Victor_ , enough teasing. I'm ready. Put both, I want both, _I want both_ -"

This is where Victor comes to a standstill. He's stopped long enough that Yuuri drags the arm covering his eyes away and peers down at where Victor is kneeling between his legs. Victor's staring at Vitya in his hand with a contemplative frown, his forehead pinched, as if he's never seen a dick before in his life. Yuuri's, starts to panic, wondering if Victor has somehow changed his mind.

"Victor?"

His worried tone must have been more obvious than Yuuri had intended because Victor immediately snaps his attention back to him with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, sorry. Just- I was just trying to work out the best way to go about this without hurting you."

Yuuri had caught Victor staring at porn on his laptop a few days ago with a pensive frown on his face, the notepad he normally uses to sketch out choreo balanced on one knee. He wasn't even hard as he studied the people on the screen fucking, just clicking to the next suggested video and making notes that Yuuri will have to destroy later, lest Yakov find it later and have an aneurysm.

It should be impossible for Yuuri to love Victor anymore than he does. That Victor would always put his well being and comfort first; that he would be willing to do this for Yuuri, would want to make this good for him.

Yuuri reaches down between them until he finds where Victor and him join. They're both lubed up six ways to Sunday; Yuuri already so open that it's easy to tuck a finger inside.

"Here," he murmurs. "Put it right here."

Victor pulls back until the head of his cocks is only barely inside. He lines the dildo up in parallel, looking towards Yuuri once more. Yuuri gives him his best, most reassuring smile and tries his best to relax before finally- _finally_ \- Victor pushes in.

For one brief, terrifying moment, it feels as if there's no way it's going to happen. The tip of Vitya pushes against the ring of muscle of Yuuri's hole... and then stops. He's not loose enough. There's not enough lube. Something will tear before then. It feels impossible-

\- until it's suddenly not.

" _Uhn_!" Yuuri can't stop the noise that bursts out of him as both cocks breach him, his hole giving way for both heads. He pre-emps Victor's inevitable question with a breathless, "I'm okay. Keep going."

Victor does his best to go slow, which is both sweet and maddening at the same time. He rocks in an out as carefully as he can, each inward stroke driving more and more inside of Yuuri. Ever so often, he'd pause to dribble more lube between them until the towel underneath is practically soaked through.

Yuuri, on his back, with his nails digging into the back of his sweaty knees can do nothing but take it. There's a taste of copper in his mouth from where he's bitten his lip to keep from crying out each time Victor moves. It's too much; he's too full. Each time Victor feeds a little more of his dicks inside, Yuuri thinks that, alright, _this_ is his body's absolute limit only to be surprised once more.

When he chances a look down at where they're joined, he's shocked to find that he's barely taken them halfway in.

‘ _There's no way! I'll break before they gets all the way inside!_ '

On the next thrust, Victor finds his prostate.

Yuuri mouth fits itself around a shocked, confused moan, breath hitching on each inhale. So far, Victor had done his best to avoid hitting that spot inside him in order to keep Yuuri from going off like a rocket. But with two cocks bullying their way inside, there's not much anyone of them can do to avoid it. His back arches, body writhing in an effort to- he doesn't know. Get closer, get away? His brain has been reduced to just a useless lump of mush at this point.

Victor pauses when he feels Yuuri's breath hitch, body tensing. He's panting like a racehorse, sweat dripping down his face. He's shaking slightly in the effort to keep from moving. "Speak to me, sweatheart. Is it too much? Should I pull out?"

This is what Yuuri's mush brain parses: If Victor pull out > sex stop.

Answer no.

Immediately.

"No!" It bursts out of him, surprising Victor so bad that he startles, jostling the dicks inside Yuuri and making him shriek as he comes, violently, hard enough to hit his chin.

Victor's worried face hovers over Yuuri as he comes back to himself. Victor is still inside, body locked ridged as if he's too afraid to move. He's calling Yuuri's name in increasingly worried tones.

"‘m okay, just give me a moment," Yuuri slurs, dazed. He flops his hand uselessly until he manages to reach Victor's thigh which he gives a weak pat in reassurance. At Victor's obvious look of doubt, Yuuri clenches down experimentally, making them both moan. After some convincing Victor's hips start to move again, building slowly until he's fucking Yuuri with short, even strokes.

Yuuri is still feeling the shivery after effects of his first orgasm, each little twitch of movement sending white hot spikes of pleasure racing through him. He feels so full. It doesn't seem possible that everything could fit inside. He loves it, though, loves the feeling of being stuffed so full of Victor. Could be happy with just getting fucked by Victor's cock.

"Y-Yuuri, _holy fuck_ ," Victor swears in a bitten off grunt, his hips stuttering. He's flushed red in exertion all the way down to his chest, face twisted in a concentrated effort to keep from coming. He looks like he's just run a marathon, like he's just skated several programs back to back without a break in between. "If you keep saying things like that I'm not going to last much longer."

Saying...? Oh. All of that must have been out loud, Yuuri realizes distantly. He'll be embarrassed about it later, he decides, when Victor isn't two dicks deep inside of him.

"It's just- It's so good. It feels so good," Yuuri sighs. He nudges Victor's back with the heel of his foot to get him going again which Victor does after a deep, fortifying breath. Yuuri can tell his stamina is at his limit. He's been so good to Yuuri that he'll give him some encouragement. "Do you like how it feels, Victor? With the two of you, am I tighter than usual?"

Victor honestly sounds like he's dying as he grits out, " _God, Yuuri_."

"Hey, did you know, Victor? It's always been you that I think about," Yuuri murmurs sweetly, reaching up to cup at Victor's cheek and thumbing the sweat out of his eyes. "You're the only I want, the only one that can make me feel this way. I want it, I want you to come inside me, I want-"

" _Fuck_ , I'm not going to-"

Yuuri's already got his one and done with a second rapidly approaching. Victor's orgasm, though, has been a long time coming and, for all his efforts to stave it off, he's still only human. When he finally comes, he half collapses on top of Yuuri, groaning as his thrust once, and then again, pressing tight against the curve of Yuuri's ass as deep as he can go. They stay like that, with Victor slumped over him, sobbing for breath as Yuuri pets at all the parts of Victor he can reach while he waits for him to get his second wind. He can still feel Vitya inside of him, eternally perky and ready to continue.

With Victor pulled out, Vitya meets no resistance as he starts to fuck into the sloppy mess inside of Yuuri. Since there was no need for his own completion, all of his attention is focused now on making him come. Yuuri does his best to meet his every thrust, his feet planted on the bed to give him more purchase. A wet tongue works in tandem with the cock fucking his ruined hole, sucking and licking at the abused flesh until Yuuri is sobbing incoherently.

Relief comes when Vitya finds his prostate, hammering at it with a single minded determination that Yuuri would find admirable if he wasn't about to lose his mind right now. His pleasure mounts as a hand takes cock, stroking him with a brutal grip but it's Victor's voice telling him to come, to come for _us_ that finally tips him over, has him seeing stars.

* * *

Like a summer storm that builds and builds, the tension crests in the night and then dissipates, leaving normalcy in its wake. Or whatever passes as normalcy in Yuuri's life. Boxes come in, thank you cards go out. Yuri starts looking Yuuri in the eye again when they talk at the rink even if it is just to cuss him out on his sloppy free leg (and then he connects the dots on why that might be and goes back to not interacting with them again but then, hey, you can't win them all). They're in love, they're getting married. They're happy.

They get a package in the mail.

They get several packages in the mail.

"Phichit, why?!"

The abbreviated explanation is this: Phichit, highly aggrieved over the fact that Yuuri hadn't liked his gift had double down and sent him another one thinking that Yuuri would have thrown out the first one in a screaming fit of mortification.

During this process, he might have run into a fan in the store who recognized him despite the face mask, hat and glasses.

He then might have thrown Yuuri under the bus and told that fan the actual reason why he was sending two time GP winner and Olympic gold medalist Yuuri Katsuki a dick cloning kit.

That fan might have possibly posted the experience on twitter in explicit, squealing detail. (The hashtag #clonethatdickkatsuki trends for several hours. The company who makes the kit keeps @ing Yuuri. Someone might have tried to start an online petition to get Victor to make an official replica.)

Victor is idly looking at their newest bounty like a king surveying his court. He has a pensive look on his face as he stares at all the boxes in front of him. Yuuri is doing his very best to ignore everything by hiding his face in his hands. If he can't see it, it doesn't exist, right?

Yuuri hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled down and he finally lets his hands fall away from his face, only to see Victor shucking his pants off, dick out.

The sheepish smile Victor gives him is so sweet and lovely that he nearly misses what he says.

"Well, you did say a million, didn't you?"

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this on December 15th, 2017, stalled at the sex scene, and then abandoned it in March. Despite all that, I promised myself that I'd finish this thing by the end of the year.
> 
> ... it's still 2018 somewhere in the world.
> 
> WHATEVER. IT'S FUCKING DONE. I CAN DELETE THIS OFF MY GDOCS NOW.


End file.
